


The Fallen Souls (of the battle of Hogwarts)

by DarkTales388



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Avada Kedavra, Battle of Hogwarts, Beheading, Blood and Gore, Eternal Suffering, F/M, Heaven & Hell, M/M, Murder, Necrophilia, Rape, Suicide, burned alive, suffocation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkTales388/pseuds/DarkTales388
Summary: The battle of Hogwarts is in full swing and Harry Potter makes it into the forest to get killed by Voldemort. But he won't find a quick dead, just like most of his friends and enemies.A story in which the battle of Hogwarts is bloody and dark, ending most of our heroes and villains lives before it's all over. Will their souls find their way to Heaven? Or will they be stuck in Hell for the rest of eternity?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Voldemort, Gregory Goyle & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Fenrir Greyback, Hermione Granger/Fenrir Greyback/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Draco Malfoy

Potter stands in front of the Dark Lord. His arms to his sides, his face determent. A cut is visible on his left cheek, with a blood trail running down to his chin. Draco can’t believe the idiot has come. Doesn’t he know he is going to die now? There is no way the Dark Lord is going to let the boy wonder life. After all these years, Draco will finally be rid of the boy wonder. The thought brings a smile to Draco’s face.

“The boy who lived, comes to die,” the Dark Lord says. Draco looks at the man. He looks giddy as he holds his wand in front of him. Aunt Bella cheers beside him.

“Well, get it over with then,” Potter snaps when nothing seems to happen.

Draco doesn’t get it. Does Potter truly want to die? Who would want that? Isn’t it better to live, no matter what? Draco knows what it feels like to get close to dead. It’s not a pleasant feeling, the pain and fear. The question of what comes next. Doesn’t this frighten Potter? Where is his survival instinct? Why did he hideaway for all these months only to surrender now without a fight. It’s crazy. But that is Potter, isn’t it? The crazy boy that always gets away with everything. Well, this time he won’t. This time he will die and Draco will be free.

Potter doesn’t look at anyone else except the Dark Lord. He doesn’t seem to notice all the Death Eaters around him, slowly creeping closer. Draco does and he wonders what they all think of this pathetic small boy that taunts their leader. He’s no threat and that is clear. Maybe now they will see the Dark Lord for the idiot he is.

“A bit impatient, aren’t we,” the Dark Lord says. “Why the rush? You will only die once. Don’t you want to enjoy that moment?”

“It’s what you always wanted, so why wait. You’ve got me. I’m here. You can kill me. Nobody else is going to die today because of me,” Potter declares.

The Dark Lord laughs, and the Death Eaters around follow. Draco shakes his head. Stupid sheep, most of them. The Dark Lord is angry, crawl. The Dark Lord is laughing, laugh too. The Dark Lord has an opinion, agree even if you don’t. It’s pathetic. They’re all just like Father. They lack inspiration. Or a spine. Draco might be a Death Eater, he’s still got a mind of his own. And that’s the way the Dark Lord loves it. It’s the reason why he and aunt Bella are his most trusted followers. Not because they do whatever the Dark Lords bits them, but because they do it with creativity and charm. With a little spice of their own.

“Draco, my boy,” the Dark Lord says. Draco turns to look at his Lord. “I believe I promised you a reward for warning me about Snape and his treacherous heart. Did you know, Potter? That the man loved your mother more than he loved me?”

Potter looks at Draco. Hatred boils in his eyes and Draco smiles at him. “Don’t get all worked up, Potter. Just because I killed your beloved headmaster and his little errand boy, doesn’t make me evil.”

“He believed in you,” Potter spits. “Was willing to help you. And you killed him in cold blood.”

Draco laughs. “Yes, it was quite poetic. Murdering him with his own creation. The one that almost killed me.”

Potter pales and Draco shakes his head. “You’re pathetic, Potter. You should follow through when you cast a spell like that, not whine and run away.”

“You should get your revenge,” the Dark Lord interrupts. “Take his dignity before we end him. We’ve still got about twenty minutes before we go to the castle to kill all his little friends.”

Harry’s head snaps back to Voldemort. “You promised you wouldn’t harm them if I surrendered,” Harry shouts.

“Oh, my boy. Didn’t your daddy teach you? Never trust the evil Lord. He lies,” the Dark Lord laughs. “Oh wait, I killed him before you even knew how to walk. What a shame.”

Aunt Bella circles around Potter. Her wand hand reaches out and in seconds Potter lies on the floor, screaming in agony. Draco can hear the Dark Lord in his mind. ‘Take him, degrade him to nothing, and then let me kill him.’

Draco nods and steps forward. He lifts Potter’s face and spits on it. “You will beg for mercy before the end,” Draco tells him.

The Crucio lifts and Potter tries to stand up. Draco turns his wand and Potter falls back to the ground.

“You bastard,” Potter spits. Draco looks at him and wonders how Potter will scream when he finds out what is coming now. The Dark Lord steps up behind Draco and places his hand on Draco’s crotch. It pushes against Draco’s cock and Draco can feel it harden by its touch. Some might say he’s the Dark Lord’s fuck toy, but Draco knows better. The Dark Lord can’t keep his hands of him, and one day, that will give Draco the advantage to take his place, to become the one everyone fears.

“Don’t waste time, my boy,” the Dark Lord whispers in Draco’s ear. “Show me how much you want him.”

Draco shivers. If only he had been better at closing off his mind when he was younger. Then the Dark Lord would never have seen the silly teenage fantasies Draco had back then, of him and Potter in the Quidditch locker rooms, all sweaty and horny after chasing each other on the field. They had been fantasies that will never come true. Draco has moved on from them, has learnt what real sex is like, discovered how rewarding it is to have someone fuck his ass. He has no need anymore for fantasies. And he’s sure that Potter’s cock will never be as satisfying as the Dark Lord’s.

“You just going to stand there?” Potter asks. He sits on his hands and knees on the forest floor. His clothing torn and dirty.

Aunt Bella laughs. “You wish they would just stand there and kill you now. Don’t you know our little Draco has had the hots for you ever since he was a little boy?”

Potter’s eyes widen as he looks at Draco and the Dark Lord. His eyes are focused on the Dark Lord’s hand that has pulled Draco’s cock out of his robes and is rubbing it slowly. Draco is hard and he can’t wait to fill Potter with his lid. He takes a step towards him and takes Potter’s nest of hair in his hand to pulls him on his knees, making his mouth line up with Draco’s cock. Potter firmly pushes his lips closed, unwilling to take Draco in his mouth.

“Don’t be a prude, Potter. Open wide for me and maybe we’ll make it quick and painful,” Draco tells him. Aunt Bella laughs from his side and Draco shakes his head. He knows he’s given the Death Eaters around them a nice show. It won’t be the first time, and probably also not the last. Depending on how many prisoners they will be taking tonight. Draco hopes Granger survives. He would love to see his aunt torture her again. And maybe Draco can take her too, fuck her until she begs for it to stop. The Mudblood deserves to die a horrible death for all the times she made Draco look like a fool in school.

Draco pushes his cock against Potter’s lips. Potter fights against him and keeps his lips firmly closed.

“Bloody Merlin,” aunt Bella says. She raises her wand and Potter opens his mouth without a fight. “You’ll do what he tells you to,” aunt Bella instructs Potter.

Draco slides his cock into Potter’s mouth and pushes Potter’s head all the way against his crotch. Then he pulls him out a little before pushing back in. Potter sputters around his cock, only urging Draco on to push even deeper into his throat. Draco finds a nice rhythm and lets out a pleasant moan. The Dark Lord kisses Draco’s neck and lets his hands roam over Draco’s chest. Aunt Bella lets the Imperius slip and Potter starts to fight the intrusion again. He pushes his hands against Draco’s stomach and tries to push him off him. But it’s no use, Draco has a good firm hold on his hair and keeps his cock inside his mouth without much fight.

The Dark Lord raises his wand and seconds later Potter’s clothes have vanished. The boy kneels naked in front of Draco, tears streaming over his cheeks. Draco laughs as he looks at him. It’s good to get back for all the times Potter has made his life miserable.

Draco pulls out before he gets to close. He doesn’t want this to be over yet. He pushes Potter backwards on the ground and kneels in between his legs. “Have you ever been fucked, Potter?” Draco asks.

“Please don’t, Malfoy,” Potter begs. “Don’t do this.”

Draco shakes his head. “I’ll take that as a no. You’ll like it before the end, I promise.” It’s the perfect revenge, taking Potter’s virginity moments before the boy dies. Degrading him to a fuck toy instead of the hero everyone thinks he is.

Draco takes Potter’s legs in his hand and lines his cock up with Potter’s hole. Draco pushes in with force and Potter cries out in pain. Draco fucks him and Potter whimpers. He looks so pathetic like this, snot leaking from his nose, tears straining his cheeks, his hands grabbing the forest floor, blood escaping his anus as Draco destroys it. He keeps begging for Draco to stop and Draco loves the thought that this is how Potter is going to die, as a whining little bitch. As his whining little bitch.

In an instant, Draco’s clothes vanish in thin air and Draco shivers. He knows what is coming now and he can’t wait. The Dark Lord kneels behind him and lets his finger slide over Draco’s hole. The lubrication spell tingles and Draco smiles. The Dark Lord pushes into him and hits Draco’s prostate on his first thrust. It’s heaven as Draco finds the perfect rhythm of fucking and getting fucked at the same time.

“So beautiful and talented,” the Dark Lord tells Draco. Draco leans against the Dark Lord’s chest and lets his body do all the talking. Potter still fights below him and the sight is beautiful. He struggles and slams his arms against the forest floor over and over again, unable to find anything else to hit against. One day everyone will be this afraid of Draco, one day soon. The Dark Lord is getting cockier by the day. He will make a mistake and Draco will make use of it. Draco will become the new Dark Lord, the one who killed the greatest wizard of this time without a scratch. The one that murdered his godfather without any remorse and the one that turned the Boy Who Lived into a crying shivering mess before he found his end. He deserves to be worshipped more than the Dark Lord.

Aunt Bella kneels by Potter’s head and takes out her favourite blade. She slides it over Potter’s cheek and the boy whimpers. Draco feels the pleasure build up in his balls, feels them tighten and he knows he’s close. With every thrust against his prostate, every slide into Potter’s bleeding hole, it comes closer.

“Give it to me,” the Dark Lord orders. Draco wonders if the Dark Lord is planning to kill Potter with a knife instead of the killing curse. It’s not his style, it’s the way aunt Bella likes to kill people, make them bleed and suffer. She always complains the killing curse is to fast, to easy. And Draco agrees. Let this silly boy feel the pain of death before it takes him. Draco wants to see him bleed, watch the life slowly fade out of him. The killing curse would be to kind for Potter. If only it was his choice, his place to make this decision. Draco would make it perfect.

Aunt Bella hands her knife to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord pushes Draco’s back firmly against his chest and holds him in place with his other hand on Draco’s chest.

“You should keep your mind closed,” he says. Draco’s eyes widen and his rhythm wavers. Did he let slip his intentions? Was he so cut up in fucking Potter that he made a mistake?

The knife touches the side of Draco’s throat and Draco knows his life is over. There is no way he can fight off the Dark Lord. His wand lays to his side, out of his reach. He’s pinned between Potter’s squirming body and the Dark Lord.

“Nobody places themselves above me, not even in their thoughts,” the Dark Lord says. With a swift movement, the Dark Lord pulls the sharp blade of the knife across Draco’s throat. It gets slit open and blood shoots out over Potter’s chest and face. A terrified scream comes from Draco’s side. It’s his mother. Draco doesn’t have the strength to look at her. His eyes are fixed on Potter as his body shakes and trashes. The shock in Potter’s eyes is amazing and pushes Draco over the edge. He releases inside Potter as his vision starts to blur. His arms begin to shake and Draco coughs up blood in his struggle to find a breath. His head begins to spin, his eyes roll to the back of his head and the world turns black.

Draco feels the Dark Lord slips out of him and Draco feels empty. He’s cold and he wavers. The Dark Lord stands up, releasing his hold on Draco. Draco’s torso wiggles until it falls forwards. He lands on top of Potter. What would Potter think of him now? Will he fear his end would be this painful too? Draco whole body begins to shake and he slides out of Potter’s ass. Draco gurgles and wonders how long this will take before he passes out and dies.

Blood pools around them, colouring Draco’s platinum hair and Potter’s naked body red.

Potter whispers something. It sounds like Draco’s name. His first name. Only Draco isn’t sure. Darkness enfolds Draco as he drifts away from this world forever.


	2. Harry Potter

Harry can’t believe his eyes. One moment Malfoy seemed to be Voldemort’s lover and confidant. The next, a knife slides his throat open like he’s nothing. The Death Eaters around them cheer and applause, they don’t seem to mind that their lord just killed one of them in cold blood. Blood spurts onto Harry turning his skin dark red. Malfoy looks at him and then convulses inside him, filling Harry with his sperm as he slowly dies. Harry closes his eyes and hopes his end will come soon. He thought when he walked into the forbidden forest tonight, that it would be quick. Voldemort would see him and cast the killing curse, and that will be it. But instead, he’s been tortured and raped. Humiliated and used. And it was all for nothing. Voldemort won’t keep his word. He won’t stop this war and let Harry’s friends and family life. They will all die knowing Harry left them to fend for themselves.

Malfoy’s body falls on top of Harry and convulses a couple of time before it starts to shake uncontrollably. Harry whispers Draco’s name when he tastes Malfoy’s blood on his lips. The blood pools around them as Draco’s body goes still. Harry can’t believe his school nemesis just died right in front of him. While he was raping Harry and enjoying it. It’s different than seeing Lupin’s and Fred’s bodies in the great hall. Or to watch Sirius fall through the fail. That had been numbing. No, this is different. This has ripped something apart in Harry’s chest and leaves an aching hole inside it. Harry has no idea why. He hated Malfoy, so why does his death hurt more than the death of his friends and family?

Someone pulls Malfoy’s body of Harry and takes it in their arms. Harry opens his eyes and watches as Narcissa takes hold of her son and rocks his dead body in her arms.

“Don’t cry, my girl,” Voldemort tells her. “He was a traitor, believing he could replace me.”

Narcissa doesn’t seem to hear her master. She only has eyes for the blank stare of her dead son. Harry looks at her and wonders if his mother would hold him like that after he’s dead, if she had still been alive. He thinks she would have. She would have mourned Harry too. For a second Harry is fascinated by the sight, until Bellatrix kneels next to Narcissa.

“Sister, pull yourself together,” Bellatrix snaps as she lets her hand slide over Malfoy’s cheek. “Look how pretty he’s in dead.”

“Don’t you touch him,” Narcissa shouts at Bellatrix. The sisters stare at each other until Bellatrix just shakes her head and walks away from them.

In the meantime, Harry carefully crawls away from them. Maybe he can make a run for it. It’s clear Voldemort won’t keep his side of the deal after he kills Harry. He said so himself. If only Dumbledore and Snape hadn’t died last year, then maybe someone would have been able to tell Harry how to stop this man. Harry doesn’t know for sure if Hermione, Ron and he have found all Voldemort’s Horcruxes. The ones they did find are destroyed, except for the snake. Harry hopes it’s enough. He knows his friends will fight to the end if necessary. He’s sure of it. Harry just hopes they will survive.

“Stand up, Potter,” Voldemort tells him. “I want you to stand as I kill you.”

Harry looks around and sees Voldemort watch him with his blood-red eyes. They glitter in the dark. It’s clear Voldemort loves to kill. And there is no doubt in Harry’s mind that he’s next. 

“You didn’t think you would get away, just because I had to interrupt your execution because of the traitor Malfoy brad?” Voldemort says.

Harry slowly puts his feet on the ground and raises his head. He knows this is it. He’ll be joining Malfoy in dead. There is no way to escape and Harry won’t die a coward. He will die strong and upright, just like his father. Just like Sirius and Lupin. Soon he will see his parents. And Sirius and Lupin. He will finally get to know his family and all will be well. He only needs to get through the seconds it takes for Voldemort to raise his wand and utter the words that will kill him for good. 

The green light races towards Harry. He smiles as it hits him and he drops to the ground. He made it to the end. 

When Harry opens his eyes the sky is white. Something cries close by and Harry turns his head. He can’t see where the cries come from. The world around him is just white. Harry sits up and looks at his own body. He’s still naked, but Malfoy’s blood that spilt on him when Malfoy died has disappeared. He slowly gets to his feet and wonders if this is heaven. And if it is, where are his parents? Surely they would have been here to great their son?

The crying continues and Harry walks towards the sound. A little bench appears in front of him. Another person stands next to it, looking down at a bundle of fabric underneath it.

As Harry moves closer the person comes into focus and Harry recognises the platinum hair and the dark mark on the left arm. The person is Malfoy.

“Didn’t think you would make it to heaven,” Harry says.

Malfoy turns and signs. “Don’t think we’re there yet, Potter,” he replies.

Malfoy is naked too. The cut in his throat is gone, but his chest is filled with scars. Harry can’t help but stare at them. “I’m sorry,” he stutters as he realises how Malfoy had got them. Harry has put them there on that faithful day in sixth year. Draco had almost died that day. Would he have been okay with that? To die before he would kill Dumbledore and Snape? Before he became the monster he is now? Is it Harry’s fault that Malfoy turned to the dark side without any doubt in his minds if it was the right thing to do?

“Don’t be, I deserved it,” Malfoy says.

Another cry comes from the bundle of cloth beneath the bench and Harry and Malfoy look down at the same time. In the cloth is something that looks a little like a baby, only it’s legs and arms are too long and extremely thin. It just seems wrong, in all kinds of ways. It makes Harry shiver. The creature feels like pure evil and Harry wants to throw it away and never see it again.

“You any idea what this is?” Malfoy asks.

“No idea,” Harry tells him.

“It’s a part of Voldemort’s soul,” a familiar voice says. Harry turns around and smiles when he spots Dumbledore move towards them.

“It’s good to see you, Harry,” Dumbledore says. There is a twinkle in his eyes and Harry feels right at home.

“How did a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul get here?” Malfoy asks.

“Hello Draco,” Dumbledore greets the other boy. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” A puzzled look goes over his face before it returns to a smile.

“Well, I’m here. Wherever here is.” Malfoy waves his hand around and then looks back at the crying part of Voldemort’s soul.

“I see,” Dumbledore says. He pulls on his beard.

Harry looks at the crying creature again. If a part of Voldemort’s soul is here after Harry died, does that mean that he was… “Was I a Horcrux?” Harry asks.

“Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore says. “I asked Snape to inform you when the time was right. But I understand he never got the change, that he died only hours after I did.”

“Yes, Malfoy killed him too,” Harry snaps. “He got pretty good at killing innocent people after that.”

“Snape wasn’t innocent, he was a spy,” Malfoy says. “You would have done the same if it was one of ours.”

“Never,” Harry tells him. “I don’t kill.”

“And that’s why your dead now,” Draco tells him.

Harry wants to say that Draco’s statement is invalid, as he is dead too, but at that moment two trains ride onto the platform, a white and a black train, parked on both sides of them. Harry looks around again and recognises King-cross station. It’s only white now, and empty and clean. So different from all the times he’s been there, but somehow still the same. It brings a smile on his face.

When Harry turns his attention back to Malfoy he catches him staring at the black train. Draco shakes his head as he takes steps towards the train. It looks wrong, as if Draco doesn’t want to, as if he’s being forced to move towards the black train and take it, even if he doesn’t want to.

“I can’t,” he stutters. “Please don’t make me.” Tears start to fall from his eyes and Harry wants to reach out and pull Malfoy back towards him, closer to the white train.

“You have no choice,” Dumbledore tells Malfoy.

“Don’t make me go,” Malfoy pleads. “I’ll do anything,” he begs. “I’ll do anything you want me to. Just please don’t make me take this train.”

Harry looks at the white train. He wants to move to the train and let it take him to whatever comes next. He knows it’s safe to take the white train. But he doesn’t feel it pull him closer like the black train is forcing Malfoy. Harry turns his head and looks at the black train. He shivers and he knows somehow that the train is evil and will only bring suffering. Draco still fights every step he takes that brings him closer to that train and Harry understands. He would fight it to if it was him.

“Do I have to go?” he asks Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiles at Harry. “Not if you don’t want to,” he tells him.

“Why does he get to choose?” Malfoy shouts as he inches another step closer to the black train. His hand push in the air, in the hope it will make him stop moving towards the train that will only bring him pain and suffering.

“I don’t know, I just know that I’m here to tell him that he can go back if he wants to,” Dumbledore says.

“You can’t leave me here, Potter,” Malfoy says. He looks at Harry with pleading eyes. The fear that had haunted Malfoy’s eyes in sixth year, before Harry attacked him is back. The fear he had before he became a killer and a devoted Death Eater. Before Harry almost killed him. If only Harry had never used that spell. If only he could take it all back and help Malfoy keep his soul clean.

“It’s my fault,” Harry says. “I’m sorry, Malfoy,” he tells the other boy. Then he turns to look at Dumbledore again. “If it hadn’t been for me, he would never have killed you,” Harry says. “He doesn’t deserve to pay for that for the rest of eternity.”

Dumbledore strokes his beard again as a new twinkle lights up in his eyes. “If you are sure it was your doing that forced his hand, you have a choice to make. Not if you will go back to your life or board the white train. But if you will take Draco’s place on the black train, so he can be set free and take the white one. Just know you will be choosing eternal suffering to save him.”

Harry doesn’t have to think about it. He’s the hero, isn’t he? Out to save everyone. He might have died in vain. But he won’t let anyone else suffer for the mistakes he made. With determination, he moves passed Malfoy and boards the black train. He turns as soon as he’s onboard to see Malfoy fall backwards. His eyes are wide and unbelieving as the door shuts in front of Harry. The train starts to move and Harry knows he did the right thing. Draco will go to heaven and finally have peace. Harry doesn’t know why, but he’s sure he would have never found it there, knowing what would have happened to Draco.

The white of King Cross Station fades away as the train leaves the station. The world around Harry turns black as pain shoot through his entire body. It’s like someone has put an eternal Cruciatus curse on him. Harry screams as he starts to fall. He burns and aches all over as he tumbles down a never-ending pit for the rest of eternity.


	3. Narcissa Malfoy

Narcissa lets out a howling scream when she sees the knife slice open Draco’s throat. Blood spurts out of the wound and Draco’s body convulses. The Dark Lord moves away from Draco and he falls forwards on the Potter boy. Narcissa hears the Dark Lord laugh but she doesn’t look at him, she only sees the blood spreading over the forest floor. A shiver runs over Narcissa’s back. She stares at the motionless body of her son. His hair spread around his head, slowly darkening from the blood that still leaks from his wound. Narcissa doesn’t care what will happen, she needs to keep his hairs clean. Draco always took great proud in his Malfoy locks. Narcissa can’t let them get drenched with dirt. Without thinking, or caring about the consequences, she rushes forward and pulls Draco in her arms. She lets her wand slide over his hairs, cleaning them with care, making sure they are as pristine as always.

Bellatrix kneels next to her. Narcissa doesn’t look up to her, she just looks into Draco’s eyes. His once filled with life grey orbs. Now they are empty and dull, so different from how Narcissa remembers them. She used to love watching his eyes explore the world when Draco was just a baby. She watched them be filled with admiration, fear, confidence. They had always been the place where you could see what Draco truly felt. And now they don’t show anything anymore. A tear falls from Narcissa’s eye as she moves her gaze away from Draco’s eyes.

Draco’s mouth is opened slightly, his lips covered in the blood he coughed up while he died. Bellatrix’s hand slides over Draco’s cheek, moving some of his hair out of his face.

“Sister, pull yourself together,” she says. “Look how pretty he’s in dead.”

Rage boils in Narcissa. Her sister wouldn’t understand. She never had a child of her own. She doesn’t know what it feels like to lose the one person you promised to protect with your life. The one person Narcissa failed to protect. She should have died, not her boy. Not her beautiful talented boy. He had so much potential. And now he’s just gone. And Bellatrix thinks it’s all okay, that she can now mock Draco as if he was nothing.

Narcissa looks up and shouts: “Don’t you touch him!” Her eyes are locked with Bellatrix’s. Narcissa is not surprised to find no anger in them, or sorrow for the loss of her nephew, just glee and excitement. Before Bellatrix went to Azkaban, Narcissa would have thought the death of her family would mean something to her sister. But now she knows that the only thing Bellatrix cares about is torture and death. And pleasing her Dark Lord. Off course she is happy that Draco is gone. She could never except that Draco knew how to please their Lord better than her. She’ll be the number one again, the one who shares the Dark Lord’s bed.

Bellatrix shakes her head and walks away from Narcissa. Narcissa looks back at her boy. She tidies his hair and pulls his eyes closed. Then she places a kiss on his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She should have run with him the day she found out her husband was dead. Killed by the man he always so eagerly supported. Nobody knows why the Dark Lord had killed Lucius that night when the Dark Lord returned. Narcissa had asked Goyle and Crabbe about it, but they both didn’t want to say or also didn’t know. The only thing Narcissa found out is that the Dark Lord had said something about Lucius being the reason a part of him had died and that he will pay the price for it. Lucius was killed and then eaten by Nagini. There had been no body to bury or mourn.

Only Narcissa hadn’t run. She had stayed and had tried to comfort Draco in his pain. She had watched him struggle until one day he found his voice and had done the Dark Lord’s bidding. He had killed Dumbledore and found his way into the good graces of the Dark Lord. He had found out about Snape’s betrayal and had saved them all. The Dark Lord had taken him into his bed and Draco had grown to become a man his father would have been proud of.

And now he was gone. Still, pale and dead. Narcissa will never hear him laugh again. She will never find him in front of the piano, playing one of the classics in the middle of the night because he can’t sleep. Her boy will never graduate, or marry, or have children of his own. He always wanted children. And now that joy was robbed away before he even had a chance to grasps it.

In the corner of her eyes, Narcissa sees the green light that kills the Potter boy. She doesn’t care. That boy has cost her her entire family. He deserved to die. It should have been only him who passed away tonight. Draco didn’t deserve to go, to be slaughtered in front of everyone, downgraded to a whore for the Dark Lord’s pleasure.

There is some commotion and then the forest goes silent again. Bellatrix screams that the boy is dead. Narcissa looks up with her tear-streaked face and watches as the people she thought were her friends start to move.

“The giant spawn can carry him,” the Dark Lord says. Hagrid is forced to pick up the Potter boy. His naked body is covered with Draco’s blood. He’s on full display as Hagrid holds him up. One of his arms slides out of Hagrid’s embrace and swings lifelessly while the crowd starts to move away from the clearing in the forest. Nobody pays any attention to Narcissa, sitting on the forest floor with the naked body of Draco in her lap. None of her friends asks her if she’s okay. They just leave her alone with her grief. A forgotten memory already.

Narcissa brushes her hand through Draco’s hair when she looks back at his face. With his eyes closed, she can almost fool herself by pretending he’s just asleep. But the blood that still drips from his nose, and covers his lips and chin give away that he’s no longer here. Narcissa slides a finger over the open wound on Draco’s throat. It’s deep, cutting halfway through it, exposing body parts that should be hidden. Narcissa her hand slides further down, over Draco’s arm that hangs loosely to the side. She lifts it and places it on Draco’s stomach. He shouldn’t be naked. Only enemies are left uncared for, humiliated and abandoned. Draco deserves better. He deserves a proper burial. One that was stolen from his father. Narcissa won’t have it be stolen from her boy.

With care, Narcissa lays Draco down on the ground. She stands up and takes off her robe, leaving her in only her bra and panties. She doesn’t care. Her life is worthless now. The only thing she lived for is dead and gone. Now she just wants to cover up the naked body of her baby boy.

Narcissa lays the robe on the ground next to Draco. She takes her wand and lifts Draco into the air and then places him on top of the robe. She kneels next to Draco and kisses him on the forehead. “I love you,” she tells him. With shaking hands she lifts one side of the robe and folds it over Draco’s body, covering half his face. Then she takes the other side to cover him up completely. The robe isn’t long enough and Draco’s calves and feet stick out. But it’s the best that Narcissa can do. And at least his manhood isn’t on full display anymore, or the awful muggle way he found his end.

For some time Narcissa just sits there, her hands resting on top of the robe, somehow still trying to connect to her dead son. She can hear fighting in the distant and she knows the war continues. Only she doesn’t care anymore who wins or loses. What is the point of a better world if her son isn’t here to live it? Why did they stay with the Dark Lord, if he only meant to end them all? The only thing Narcissa can still do is show him what an end means. Others will hear, and they will abandon him. Narcissa’s life can still mean something.

Narcissa looks around her, scanning the trees. There is one close by, at the edge of the clearing, that has beautiful flowers growing underneath it. A branch hangs over it to cover them, to give shade on the warm days of summer. Narcissa stands up and walks towards it. She reaches for the branch and finds out that she can hold on to it if she stands on the tips of her toes. It will work. This will be perfect. The final resting place of the Malfoy line.

With a swift wand movement, a hole in the ground is made. Narcissa levitates Draco’s body into it.

“Goodbye my boy,” Narcissa says as she covers the hole with the ground. Then she points her wand at the tree. With care, she engraves Draco’s name and a final goodbye. Small tears fall from her eyes as the gravity of her loss takes root in her mind. The Malfoy line has ended. Her family is all gone and her purpose stolen away. There is no reason for her to still be here. No reason to go on, only to feel the pain of her loss every day. It was bad enough to live without Lucius. Living without Draco will be hell. Worse than hell. She will be better off showing the world what following the Dark Lord truly means.

Narcissa takes her bra off and points her wand at it. The bra turns into a sturdy rope and Narcissa smiles. She ties one end of the rope around her neck and then steps on the grave she just made for Draco. She throws the other end of the rope over the branch of the tree that she can reach. She stands on the tip of her toes and then points her wand at the rope. A tight knot is formed around the branch. Narcissa tries to stand down on her feet, but she can’t. The rope is nice and tight around her neck, and if she would take her toes off the ground, she will hang.

Narcissa drops her wand, she won’t need it anymore. Then she takes hold of the branch with both her hands. She lifts herself a little, so her toes don’t touch the ground anymore. And then she lets go.

The rope holds and Narcissa smiles. She can feel it cut into her throat. Narcissa opens her mouth to breath, but no air finds it’s way into her longs. She will be with Lucius and Draco soon, where she needs to be.

Narcissa’s head starts to hurt the longer she hangs. Her toes slide over the ground, but find no purpose and no relieve for the pain that threatens to burst Narcissa’s head apart. Her body struggles and tears leak freely. The pain is so intense. Narcissa never thought it would hurt this much to die. She wants it to stop. She wants it to be over now. But it just goes on. She needs to stand, needs to find some higher ground to place her feet. Her toes slide over the ground, just too high to stand on, to find some relief. There is no relieve. Narcissa will die. She doesn’t want to die. What if she isn’t reunited with Lucius and Draco? What if she goes to hell and will suffer for all eternity? She can’t do that.

Her hands grab onto the rope. Narcissa tries to pull herself up, but she’s too weak. She opens her mouth and tries to find air. Her legs start to kick around as the hypoxia starts to take hold. Her body starts to shake and her eyes start to bulge out of their sockets. She loses control of her arms and they fall away from the rope. They hang next to her swirling body for a while, until the convulsions start. Out of Narcissa’s control her body spasms. The rope starts to turn, making Narcissa swing in all kinds of directions. The pain in her head is immense, it feels like her head is going to explode. Her face is turning purple and her tongue pushes itself out of her mouth.

When her urine starts to flow and soaks her panties, Narcissa regrets her decision. She should have just used her wand to end it. But she wanted to make a statement. She wanted to show the Dark Lord what happens when you destroy a family of purebloods. It was foolish to think that others will stop following him if they hear in what kind of degrading way Narcissa died. It was all for nothing. The only problem is, that there is no way back. Her wand lays on the ground, out of reach. And even if it was in reach, Narcissa doesn’t think she could have taken hold of it, as her body moves only out of her control. It vibrates in its fight to find oxygen that will never enter Narcissa’s longs again.

And then the pain in Narcissa’s head explodes. The world around her turns dark and then there is just nothing.

Narcissa’s dead body spins slowly on the rope. Her bowls open and she dirties her panties. Her toes slide softly over the ground that covers the body of her dead son, making soft marks in the sand. Her naked breasts are on full display. Her face is purple, her eyes huge and empty and her tongue hangs from her open mouth.

The world is black when Narcissa reopens her eyes. The pain is gone, but she can still feel the rope around her neck. She tries to breathe only to find that she can’t. She lifts her hands so she can grab onto the rope and lift herself, but her hands find no rope. The air above her is empty. She looks up, but she can’t see the tree. The world is completely dark. She moves her feet around, but the ground they could just touch moments ago isn’t there anymore.

And then the suffering starts. Narcissa’s body spasms in mid-air as it struggles for breath. The headache is back until it gets so bad that it passes Narcissa out. Only for her to wake again moments later to suffer through it all again. She hangs in a dark place, with nothing in sight. Alone with her agony, as she suffocates over and over again. For a few seconds, she will find relieve as her body gives out, only for it to start all over again. And over again. She’s stuck in an eternal loop of suffocating and dying on a none existing rope for the rest of eternity.


	4. Neville Longbottom

Neville looks at the door of the great hall. He can hear the voice clearly in his head. Just like he’d heard it twice before this day. Only this time the words seem unreal. It can’t be true. Neville had heard the prophecy. And he’s sure that if Voldemort’s words are true, all hope is lost.

With hesitating steps, he moves towards the door. Ron and Hermione are just in front of him. He can hear their whispers.

“You don’t think Harry went to him, do you?” Ron asks.

Hermione shakes her head. “I don’t know, Ron,” she answers.

Their conversation comes to a stop when an agonising scream is heard from outside. Neville shivers as the meaning of that scream settles inside his mind. If Professor McGonagall lets out a scream like that, the words most have been true. Harry Potter is dead.

Neville steps though the entrance doors that barely stay in their hinges. Voldemort has moved into the courtyard with his Death Eaters. Neville doesn’t give them much attention. His sight is focused on the body in Hagrid’s arms. Harry is naked, his face and torso covered in blood. One of his arms hangs down and wavers with each step Hagrid takes. Neville swallows when he spots Harry’s blank stare. His eyes are open, but they don’t register anything anymore. There is no life in them left. Harry is dead. The war is lost.

Others spot the body in Hagrid’s arms and Neville joins in with the shouts of agony and despair of the people around him. His eyes lock with Voldemort who pets his snake as if it is just a normal day. Until he looks at them all and silences them with a wave of his wand. Neville opens his mouth to scream at him, but no sound escapes him.

“Harry Potter is dead,” Voldemort proclaims. “Giant spam, put him down here, underneath my feet, where the boy belongs.”

Hagrid lowers Harry’s body with care and arranges his hand so that it hides his naked crotch. Voldemort laughs as he waves his hand. The Death Eaters holding the ropes that hold Hagrid pull Hagrid to the side.

“There is no need to hide the state in which this traitor died. He tried to sneak away. Leave you all for dead. But my Death Eaters caught him and showed him what we do with cowards,” Voldemort laughs. “At least he didn’t die a virgin.”

A tear falls from Neville’s eye. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. They raped Harry before they killed him, made him into nothing more than a doll to be fucked. He’s heard before that most of Voldemort’s victims are found naked and degraded. But he never thought the same would happen to Harry. Or any of his friends.

Neville looks back at the Great Hall. Lavender’s body is in there. He found her between the rubble. Her clothes thorn from her body, bite and claw marks all over her and semen leaking from her open mouth. Neville had used a spell to clean her before he had carried her to the Great Hall where Professor McGonagall covered her with a sheet to hide her almost naked body.

“You bastard,” Ron shouts. It’s enough to break the silencing charm leid upon them and noise is heard all around Neville. But Neville doesn’t join in. He stares at the body underneath Voldemort’s feet. Voldemort has one foot on Harry’s head, pushing it into the ground, slowly splitting open the scalp of his dead body.

Voldemort laughs again. “You want to be next?” he asks.

Ron takes a step forwards, only to be pulled back by Hermione. “Don’t,” she says. “You’ll die.”

Fuck this. They're all already dead. With Harry gone, there is no more hope. It was destroyed the moment Harry listened to that liar and went into that forest to die. They all should have known Harry would do it, that he would believe Voldemort when he promised to leave them alive if Harry would give himself up. And now there is nobody alive that will be able to kill Voldemort. Not if that bloody prophecy is true. And Neville knows enough about prophecies to not doubt them.

Neville lifts his wand and walks past Ron and Hermione. He can hear Hermione scream at him, but he doesn’t care anymore. He will try to end this idiot, even if it’s the last thing he does. It will probably be the last thing he ever does. But it’s better to die a hero than a coward.

He only makes it four paces from the crowd before he’s hit by a Crucio and he falls to the ground. It’s like knives slice open his entire body. Neville can’t hold on to his wand and it falls away from him and rolls out of reach.

By the time the pain stops, Neville is out of breath. Tears streak his face and his legs feel like jelly.

“And who is this, who tries to deny my power?” Voldemort asks.

“The Longbottom child,” Bellatrix informs Voldemort. Neville wants to get up and curse that bitch. She’s the reason his parents are gone, forever locked in St. Mungo. But his body hurts and he doesn’t think he can move.

“Ah, yes. How are your parents, young Longbottom?” Voldemort asks Neville as he leans over him. “I’ve heard that sweet Bellatrix has given them a nice present after I disappeared.”

“Keep my parents out of this,” Neville spits.

“Yes, they are useless to me.” Voldemort shakes his head and then smiles at Neville. “But you are brave. I could use brave men like you in my new world. What do you think, Neville? Are you willing to follow me, now that your saviour is dead?” 

“Never,” Neville spits out.

“Have it your way,” Voldemort tells him.

Then Neville is lifted from the ground, forced to stand on his legs as a body bind curse pins him in place.

“You’ll be the example then,” Voldemort tells him. Then he turns to the crowd. “Let this be an example to you all. If you defy me, you will die. You and your family. I will hunt them down, every person you ever loved, and I will kill them all. There is no escape. I’m the only one you should put your trust in. Follow me, and you will live. Fight me, and you and your loved ones will die.”

Neville can do nothing but watch as Voldemort spells his clothes from his body, leaving him naked and exposed. Voldemort then pushes Neville on his knees.

“I didn’t get to finish before when I killed your dead hero. So you will do,” Voldemort says. The Death Eaters laugh as Voldemort pushes his lid into Neville’s hole without any preparation. Neville screams as his anus tears. He’s forced to look at his friends, as he can’t move a single muscle in his body. Hermione and Ginny hold on to each other as they cry. And Luna hides her face in Dean’s shoulder. Neville had wanted to ask her out, and now he will never get the change. Instead, he will be raped and murdered in front of her.

It doesn’t take long before Voldemort comes inside him with an awful moan. Neville is left sitting on his hands and knees as Voldemort slides out of his abused hole and stands up. He continues with his speech as if he didn’t just rape a schoolboy in front of everyone. Neville fights the body bind curse with all his might, but he just can’t move. He can’t stop this man from taking his life. He’s as weak as his grandmother always told him he was, as useless as Snape had always known.

“Hogwarts will become a place for true wizards,” Voldemort proclaims. “And everyone that doesn’t belong will suffer the same faith as our friend here.”

Neville blinks when he watches the Sorting Head fly towards him. It falls onto his head, taking away his view. The only thing he can see is the inside of the hat. And maybe that is better. At least this way he won’t have to look at his friends as he’s murdered.

“You will be sorted into Slytherin, or you will die,” Voldemort says. “It’s the risk every current and new student will take from now on. Only wizards and witches worthy of their magic will be trained.”

Suddenly the hat on top of Neville burst into flames. Neville screams as the flames lick around his face. They heath up and Neville closes his eyes in a strange attempt to protect them. He’s in agony, as the flames burn his hair and face. They slowly travel down his body, licking over his neck and putting his clothes on fire. His entire body turns into one big torch. The pain is unbearable and Neville wishes he would pass out so all will be over.

Neville screams. He swallows the flames and his throat burns closed. Neville’s scream dies abruptly. He can’t breathe. The lack of oxygen makes his mind shot down. He can’t think straight anymore.

The body bind gets removed suddenly and Neville falls to the ground. His body rolls around from the pain for a little in a fruitless attempt to stop the flames. Neville opens his eyes one last time, only to see darkness when his eyes melt away. He stops moving and just lays there while the flames eat his skin away for the next minute or so. Than Neville perishes and the flames fizzle out, leaving his burned body behind.

The world around Neville turns bright and colourful. Neville smiles as he looks around to find himself in a beautiful meadow. He lets his hands slide through the flowers as he walks towards the small home at the edge of a massive forest. Everything is bright and beautiful. The air smells fresh and animal sounds are all around him. Neville opens the door of the cabin and is greeted by a tight hug from his mother. He spots his father close by and he signs. He’s safe and at peace, in the place he always wanted to be when he was still alive, the loving home he never experienced before.


	5. Dean Thomas

Dean stares at the scene in front of him. Neville is still on his hands and knees as he lets out another scream which stops abruptly. Luna moves closer to Dean and he tightens his hold around her waist. This is all wrong. This is not how this was supposed to go. Dean had come back to Hogwarts to fight the final battle, to help Harry save the wizarding world from the lunatic who stands next to Neville. The lunatic who thinks all of this is funny. 

But all had gone so differently. Harry is dead. And it won’t be long before Neville follows him. Dean came back to see the end of the war, but it isn’t turning into the end he thought. It’s turning into a defeat. A start of a world where he isn’t welcome and will be killed if they catch him.

Neville falls to the ground and rolls around. He loses the sorting hat. Something shiny is visible inside it. Dean stares at it in disbelieve. If he’s not mistaking, a handle of a sword sticks out of the hat.

“It seems that Longbottom has perished,” Voldemort says. Dean looks at the man. His red eyes twinkle and he smiles. “Nicely cooked, isn’t he?” Voldemort jokes.

Dean’s blood boils in his veins. This is one of his best friends that bastard is talking about. There is nothing nice or funny about him being dead.

“Nagini, he’s all yours,” Voldemort says. He steps away from Neville’s corps and joins his Death Eaters. His pet snake crawls towards Neville’s body. She’s going to eat him, isn’t she?

Dean doesn’t think. He let’s go of Luna who still cries into his shoulder. With speed, he dives for the Sorting hat and pulls out the sword. He turns and lashes at Nagini. Her head falls to the ground and her body shivers. A dark cloud explodes from her and Voldemort screams.

“Nobody’s eating today,” Dean says. He smiles at Voldemort who’s enraged. Dean has no idea what came over him, or why he feels so giddily now. “Guess you need to find a new pet.”

“You will pay for this,” Voldemort says. He lifts his wand and suddenly Dean feels at peace. He doesn’t have to worry about the war or how it will end. It doesn’t matter that he’s in the middle of a battle, or that he just killed Voldemort’s snake and is under his attack. All is well and will forever be. Dean doesn’t worry about anything anymore. No, he smiles as he feels fantastic. The best he’s felt in years. His anxiety from moments ago is gone, just like the urge to act. Everything is perfect now.

“That is right, my boy. You are mine. Now take hold of that sword with both your hands,” Voldemort says.

Dean looks at the sword in his right hand and smiles at it. He strokes it before he closes his other hand around the shaft and holds it firm.

“Now stab yourself in the guts,” Voldemort orders.

Sure, Dean thinks. It makes perfect sense to him to turn the sword and point the tip at this stomach. He looks at it as he pushes it into his body. Blood starts to tickle the further Dean pushes. It’s weird in a way. Dean sees the sword going into him, but he can’t feel it. There is no pain. Dean is invincible. He laughs and looks back at Voldemort, who smiles at him.

“That is a good boy, laugh as you bleed to death,” Voldemort says.

A green light flashes passed Dean. He looks at it in wonder. It’s followed by flashes of more lights. Green, red, purple. Dean smiles at them as his blood soaks his shirt. His hands push the sword in further until they hit some resistance. Dean takes a firmer hold and pushes hard. He needs to get the sword in further. It’s the only thing that matters. The sword needs to penetrate his whole body.

Dean pulls the sword out a little and then pushes even harder against the place that stopped him before. Some bones snap and Dean falls forwards as his legs give out. He can’t feel them anymore, but that’s okay. He doesn’t need his legs as he’s going to bleed to death. It will be perfect.

Dean lands with his face in the dirt and the sword goes all the way through his body. The top sticks out at his back. Dean looks to the side and watches as people run around him, towards the castle.

Without warning the world returns to normal. Dean screams as the pain of a sword locked in his body registers. His heartbeat speeds up and he starts to sweat. He lets go of the sword and pushes against the ground to lift his body a little. But he can’t feel his legs. He can’t stand up or even lift himself enough to get the sword out. He falls back down again and cries. The sounds of fighting are all around him. Everyone will be to busy to fight for their own lives to come and help Dean.

Time passes and the sounds move away from Dean. He’s sure the fighting has moved into the school. He lifts his head and looks around. He can see Neville’s dead body in front of him, the beheaded snake next to it. Well, at least Dean has stopped Neville from being eaten. There will still be a body to bury when this war is over. If the right side wins. Dean doesn’t want to think about what would happen to them if Voldemort wins this battle. Will they lay here until the animals and elements destroy what’s left of them? Or will Voldemort disgrace them even more?

“Let go of me, you filthy wolf,” Hermione screams from somewhere behind Dean. He turns his head to see if he can spot her. Two heavy footsteps move towards Dean. They drag something along with them. Someone, more likely, going by the screams coming from Hermione.

“Ah, look, it’s the fool who killed Nagini. Do you think he’s still alive, baby?” the man asks.

“You leave him alone. He’s a hero,” Hermione yells. It warms Dean to hear Hermione say this. He might die here on the ground, bleeding out from a wound he inflicted on himself. But at least he’s considered a hero. It the right side wins, he will be remembered forever.

The man laughs again. “He’s got something I want,” he says. With force, Dean is turned onto his side. He screams in agony as the sword moves around in his body.

“Still alive. But not for long,” the man says. Dean recognises him. He’s the werewolf Fenrir Greyback. Fenrir pulls the sword out of Dean’s stomach. Dean rolls onto his back from the force. He watches as Fenrir licks some of the blood from the blade.

“Now, let’s go find a quiet place,” Fenrir says. He starts to walk again and pulls a screaming and kicking Hermione with him. Dean can’t do a thing to help her as he’s unable to move. The only thing he can do is stare at the darkening sky above him.

Dean is cold and he shivers. He tries to stop the bleeding from his stomach with his hands, but it’s no use. There is too much blood spilling from his body. He will die, and it will all be for nothing. He will never kiss Seamus again. Is Seamus even still alive? Dean hasn’t seen him in a while. He went missing before the retrieve an hour ago. Chances are Seamus is long gone. He would have found Dean by now if he was still alive, wouldn’t he?

“Dean lay still. Let me help you,” Ginny suddenly says. She hovers over him and Dean tries to smile at her. He hasn’t noticed her before. When did she get here? How long ago was it that Fenrir was here, pulling Hermione with him?

“I’m okay, Gin,” he says. “Fenrir took Hermione into the forest. Get help and rescue her.”

Ginny looks towards the trees. “There is no help. Everyone is fighting,” she says. She waves her wand over Dean’s stomach and mutters some spells. The wound starts to close, only to open again moments later.

“Shit, I suck at healing charms,” Ginny says.

It’s kind that she tries, but Dean can feel it in his bones. It’s too late for him. He won’t survive it, even if Ginny will close his wounds now. “Leave it,” Dean says. “Help Hermione. Save her.”

Ginny shakes her head. “I can’t leave you like this.”

Dean knows he has to lie to get her to help Hermione. He hates lying to Ginny. She was once a great girlfriend and an amazing friend after the break-up. And she’s powerful. She will be able to save Hermione. Then at least Dean would have done one last good thing before he goes.

“Yes, you can,” Dean tells Ginny. “It’s okay. I will still be here when you get back with Hermione. She can do the spells to heal me.”

Ginny doesn’t look convinced. Dean tries to smile at her, make her understand that it’s okay.

“You’re right. She can help you,” Ginny says. “Hold on for me, I’ll be back.” Ginny places a soft kiss on Dean’s temple and then jumps up to run into the forest.

Dean stares at the dark sky and searches for the stars. He can’t see them. Where did the stars go? And why did Ginny leave him? He’s dying. Can’t she see he’s dying? She should have stayed.

Dean sobs and shivers. Who was he mad at just a moment ago? He can’t remember who was just here. He’s sure someone was just beside him. Was it Seamus? Where is Seamus? Shouldn’t he be here and help his boyfriend?

“Seamus, where are you?” Dean asks the sky. “I’m thirsty,” he says. His hands tremble in the pool of blood that grows around him. His breaths become shallow and he feels tired. He should just close his eyes and rest. Maybe he will be warmer when he wakes up. Seamus will be back and the world will be warmer. Sunny and bright.

Dean’s head starts to pound as he shivers in his blood. His skin is pale and clammy. He can’t stop the shivering that is only becoming worse. He’s so cold, and nothing seems to warm him anymore. His headache worsens and he can only take short quick breaths. They don’t feel enough. It’s harder and harder to breathe.

And then he spasms once before his body stops moving altogether. His blank eyes stare at the sky as the last of his blood slowly leaks out of his dead body, mixing with the dirt around him.

Only Dean finds no rest. He wakes in the dark. He can feel a massive snake move around him. Nagini rolls around his body, pushing his longs closed as she strangles Dean. She let’s go and Dean tries to crawl away. But he isn’t fast enough. Nagini opens her mouth and swallows Dean down. Dean screams as her digesting fluids touch his body. They sting and bite at him. Dean grabs around in the hope to find something to hold on to. He feels teeth and pulls his body forward. The world is still dark, but somehow he manages to push himself out of Nagini. He kicks her and tries to stand up. But his legs won’t move and he’s stuck in place.

Nagini crawls around him again and then takes Dean in her mouth. His head disappears into her body. It hurts as the sticks and needles pinch into Dean’s eyes and mouth. Dean grabs Nagini’s head and pulls his head free.

But it’s all no use. Over and over again, Nagini comes for him and swallows a part of him or his entire body. Dean’s flesh is burning and he feels sick from the pain. He fights to not be eaten, and somehow he always escapes. Only to be eaten again. And again. For the rest of eternity. Always in pain from the digesting fluids of Nagini, but never for long enough to perish and find peace.


	6. Hermione Granger

Hermione can’t move. She’s rooted to the spot. Her mouth hangs open as she stares at the scene in front of her. Harry is naked, covered in blood and death. Neville is black and burned, just as dead as Harry. And Dean lays face down on the ground with the blade of the sword of Gryffindor sticking out of his back. Hermione had watched in horror when Voldemort ordered Dean to impale himself. For some time Dean seemed to like it. Until Ron attacked Voldemort and the spell was broken. A horrible cry had come from Dean. And now he lays silent in his own blood. If he isn’t dead yet, he will be soon. And there is nothing Hermione can do to stop it.

Spells and charms fly around her head. She can see the green and red flashes. People scream and move. Somewhere in the distance, Ron yells at Hermione. He orders her to move. But why would she? All hope died when Harry stepped into the forest and got himself killed. What good does it do that the snake is dead? The only one capable of stopping Voldemort is gone. The war is lost. And Hermione can’t move because of it. The last year of hardship has all been for nothing. And now they are all going to die.

The battle moves away from Hermione and still, she doesn’t move. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t have an answer ready. She doesn’t know how to fix this. And it paralyses her.

“Well, look what we have here,” a voice says from beside her.

Hermione turns her head away from the bodies and looks at the man standing next to her. Fenrir Greyback smiles at her as he places one of his hands on her back. The other hand grabs one of Hermione’s breast. Hermione shivers and it’s like her body suddenly remembers that she’s still in a war zone and that she needs to fight. She won’t let this horrible person use her. She won’t become the next Neville Longbottom. Not if she has any say in it.

“Let go of me, you filthy wolf,” Hermione screams. She tries to push Greyback’s hand off her breast and move away. But the wolf is quick. He grabs Hermione by her hair and pulls her head backwards. He places his lips on Hermione’s and pushes his tongue inside her mouth. Hermione slams her hands against Greyback to make him stop, but the wolf is stronger than her. He laughs into the kiss and then pulls away. Hermione sees his eyes twinkle as pushes his hand between Hermione’s legs and grabs her pussy through her jeans. 

“Stop it! Let go of me,” Hermione screams. She tries to place her hands on Greyback’s chest to get some leverage so she can push away from him. Only, it’s no use.

Greyback smiles at Hermione. “Why would I. It’s a shame to waste some nice Mudblood meat,” he says. He looks around and Hermione wonders what got his attention. Without warning, Greyback starts to walk. He drags Hermione along with him by her hair. Hermione has no option but to stumble after him.

Hermione tries to reach inside her pocket to get her wand. She gets a hold of it and pulls it out. Only her hands tremble and she can’t get a clear view of Greyback as she stumbles along. She raises the wand and tries to cast a curse at her attacker. The curse flies past Greyback, who stops in his tracks.

“Oh, no you don’t, baby,” he says. With a swift move, he pulls Hermione’s wand out of her hand and drops it on the ground. He smashes the wand with his foot. Hermione stares at it with disbelief. Her last hope of escaping just got destroyed. There is no way Hermione will be able to fight Greyback with her bare hands.

Greyback doesn’t seem to care that Hermione is freaking out. He steps on, pulling Hermione along, straight towards Dean’s body.

“Ah, look, it’s the fool who killed Nagini. Do you think he’s still alive, baby?” Greyback asks.

Hermione looks at the amount of blood pooling around Dean’s body. She feels ashamed. Dean did what none of them dared. He stepped up and killed the snake.

“You leave him alone. He’s a hero,” Hermione yells. She doesn’t want to know what Greyback wants to do with him. Dean deserves to be at peace. His body shouldn’t be desecrated after what he did.

Greyback laughs. “He’s got something I want,” he says. He kicks against Dean’s body hard enough for it to turn onto its side. A horrible scream comes from it. It causes another laugh from Greyback. Hermione is shocked into silence again. Dean is in pain, that is clear. His eyes are bloodshot, and his face is pale. A tear falls from Hermione as she again tries to free herself, so she can stop Greyback from conflicting more pain to Dean. She smashes her hands against Greyback’s legs, she tries to pry his hand from her hair. But it’s all in vain.

“Still alive. But not for long,” Greyback says. His hand takes hold of the hilt of the sword and pulls it out of Dean’s stomach. He lifts the sword to his mouth and licks some of the blood of it. “Now, let’s go find a quiet place,” he says. He starts to walk away from Dean, and Hermione gets pulled along. She tries to glance back at Dean and see if he’s okay. Only her head is pulled into the other direction. Maybe someone else will find Dean in time to save him.

They walk towards the woods as the darkness starts to set in around them. The trees are large and threatening. Hermione wonders if this is where Harry walked when he went to see Voldemort. When he walked into this forest to die. Hermione should have known he would do it. She should have stopped him, should have convinced him that Voldemort would never keep his word. Only Hermione didn’t. And now she will die in the same forest as Harry. Maybe even close to where Harry was raped and killed. The only question now is if Greyback will rape her before or after he kills her? Hermione hopes it’s the last. That her death will be quick and painless. So she doesn’t have to suffer any more than she already has. That she doesn’t have to feel the same shame and pain as Harry and Neville. 

“Well, will you look at that,” Greyback says. He pulls Hermione’s head up and she looks into a small clearing. On a branch at the other side of the clearing hangs a naked body. Greyback steps closer, still pulling Hermione along. Hermione recognises the woman. It’s Narcissa Malfoy. She’s naked, her tongue hangs swollen from her mouth and her eyes bulge out of their sockets. Her body hardly moves, her toes only just touch the forest floor, where they’ve left a trail of the fight Narcissa made when her life ended.

“Always know that she would choose to end it if her boy would parish. I should have stayed and watched. She must have made a nice show, hanging naked from this tree. Just look how pretty she’s now,” Greyback says. He pushes against Narcissa’s body with the sword. Narcissa swings a little. Hermione tries not to look at her. It’s awful to see the woman dead and lifeless with faeces spoiling her legs. 

Greyback pulls Hermione closer and kisses her lips. Hermione spits against them. Greyback laughs and then pulls her against his body. “This is just the beginning, baby,” he says. He places his arm tightly around Hermione’s waist to keep her in place.

“Let’s test how sharp this sword is,” he says. With one swift movement, he lifts the sword and cuts open Narcissa’s stomach. Her intestines fall forward and hang around Narcissa’s legs.

“Sharp enough,” Greyback says. “Now let’s get down to business.”

Hermione gets pushed onto the ground. She kicks against Greyback and pushes his face away with her hands. She fights with all she’s got to get away from this monster.

Greyback’s eyes glitter as he scrapes his claws over Hermione’s face, slicing the skin open and making Hermione bleed. He leans down and licks the blood of Hermione’s face.

“Mudbloods always taste good. I’m going to enjoy eating you,” Greyback says.

“No,” Hermione screams. She slams into his face and turns around on the ground. She starts to crawl away, only to get grabbed by the legs and pulled back. Greyback’s claws slice over her back, tearing her shirt to pieces. Greyback pulls it away and then tears Hermione’s bra from her body. He forces his hands underneath Hermione and pulls her upper body upwards while squeezing her breasts. His tongue licks over Hermione’s neck.

“Don’t run, baby. I’ll make it good, I promise,” Greyback says.

He turns Hermione’s face backwards and kisses her. He forces his tongue inside Hermione’s mouth. She tries to bite him, only to find Greyback laugh into the kiss.

“Oh, I love it when you fight,” Greyback says when he pulls out of the kiss. He pushes Hermione back onto the ground and tears her jeans from her legs. He scrapes his claws over her back, drawing blood that he licks away. Then he grabs Hermione’s hips and pulls her on her knees. He pushes against Hermione’s ass and Hermione can feel his dick through his jeans. It’s hard and Hermione does not doubt what Greyback is planning to do next.

A zipper opens and moments later Greyback’s huge cock pushes into Hermione’s pussy. There is no gentle strokes or time for Hermione to adjust to the intrusion. Greyback slams into her, over and over again.

Hermione screams and cries. She digs her hands into the ground beneath her and rests her head in between them. There is no escape as she is raped forcefully. When Ron kissed her for the first time, only a couple of hours ago, Hermione thought that once this war would be over she would lose her virginity to the man she loves. She envisioned how Ron would take care of her and make her enjoy every moment of that special moment. But that moment is now robbed from her. Stolen by a werewolf. Destroyed by the man that is going to kill her tonight.

Sharp teeth scrape over Hermione’s shoulder. They are followed by a tongue that licks away the first drops of blood. Hermione closes her eyes and just hopes this will all be over soon.

The teeth bite into her shoulder. Hermione’s eyes flash open and she screams. She again tries to move forward, away from Greyback and his abusing cock and teeth. Greyback bites down deeper and then pulls away without opening his jaws. Flesh tears from Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione shudders and drops even further down to the ground. She can hear Greyback chew on her flesh behind her.

“You’re delicious,” Greyback tells her. “I’m going to enjoy devouring you.”

His teeth take hold of Hermione’s other shoulder and tear more flesh away. It hurts like hell and makes Hermione forget the pain of the dick that still trust into her with rapid speed. Blood trickles down from her shoulders onto the ground, mixing with the blood that spilt from Narcissa when Greyback had sliced her open. Hermione stares at it in disbelief. Is she going to get eaten alive? Is this how her life will end?

Greyback sits up on his knees and takes hold of Hermione’s hair again. He pulls her head onto his chest. He licks her artery. Hermione expects him to bite down and tear it open. That at least would mean this will all be over soon.

“Open your eyes, baby,” Greyback tells her. Hermione refuses. She doesn’t need to see Narcissa’s body in front of her. She doesn’t want to know what Greyback plans to do next.

The sharp blade of the Gryffindor sword pushes softly against Hermione’s neck. Hermione whimpers as Greyback pulls harder on her hair.

“Open them, now!” Greyback yells.

Hermione opens them and looks at the blade in front of her face.

“Kiss your doom,” Greyback tells her. He pushes Hermione’s face against the blade and Hermione obeys. What other choice does she have? She going to die anyway. And maybe Greyback will kill her quicker if she stops fighting against him. If she stops being fun.

Greyback slices the blade against Hermione’s neck, making small incisions. Hermione lets it happen. She lets her arms hang beside her body. She stares around Narcissa at the tree in front of her. She reads the words engraved in its trunk. Draco Malfoy, the best son that ever lived. The words sound wrong. Malfoy was a bully, a killer. Why did he get a grave, while Harry, Neville and Dean’s bodies will rot in the open air once all this is over?

“It’s time to greet your so-called saviour, Mudblood,” Greyback says. Hermione blinks as she sees the sword swing towards her. Her mouth opens and the beginning of a scream escape her. The sword slices through her neck with ease. The scream stops abruptly. Hermione’s headless body falls forward onto the ground, blood spilling on the ground. Her head hangs from her hair which is still held by Greyback. Her eyes wide open, just like her mouth, frozen forever in the scream she uttered just before she died.

Hermione wakes in a warm room. She looks around to see bookcase after bookcase. Curious she walks towards one and scans the bindings. They are all books she still wanted to read but never got around too. Hermione picks up one of the books and walks towards a comfy couch that sits next to a fireplace. A cosy fire is lit and Hermione pulls a soft blanket around her as she starts to read.


End file.
